The Last Night
by coldheartscoldersongs
Summary: I wrote this after reading the book in school. On the night before Gatsby dies, he invites Nick over..Confessions are made and they create a night to remember. The next morning, dreams are shattered. Nick POV.


Gatsby called me up on the last night of summer. He sounded nothing short of broken.

"Would you mind coming over, old sport? I could always use a little company."

"I'm on my way." I hung up the phone. Surely he was still heartbroken over Daisy and now I almost resented him for it. Truth be told, I had fallen in love with Gatsby that summer. I knew it was wrong, knew it was impossible, but I did it anyway. Maybe we weren't so different after all.

A servant, one of Wolfshiem's people, let me in. The house, which had once looked grand and dazzling, appeared in front of me as a dump. I had a feeling that Gatsby hadn't noticed the mess.

"Old sport." He came to me out of thin air. The man looked like death, but he still tried to smile. "Care for a drink?"

"Don't mind if I do." Gatsby's bar was still extensive as ever, but the magic from his parties wasn't there.

"What would you like?" He asked, never losing his charm.

"Just a glass of wine will do." Gatsby poured the drink himself, not even getting a servant to do it. He poured himself a glass of vodka and I worried about him,

"What do you want to talk about?" I asked.

"Daisy," he slurred, already half drunk. Even though he looked kind of adorable, I hated to see a friend so upset.

"Maybe we should talk about something else. Cars? Parties?"

"I want to talk about Daisy!" A tear slipped down his cheek. "Daisy always hated my parties. I only had them for her."

"That doesn't mean they weren't any good."

He laughed bitterly. "All of this was for her. Now what do I do?"

I groaned. It was impossible to try and reason with a man who had a one track mind. "I'm sorry Gatsby, but you move on. Daisy is good and fine, but she didn't put the stars in the sky. Hell, she said she loved you and she's not even speaking to you!"

He sat in silence for a few minutes, looking entirely disenchanted. He guzzled his vodka before speaking.

"I suppose you're right, old sport. But Daisy is the reason I am who I am. How much can I change in one lifetime?"

"I don't know, but maybe you could focus on something else."

"I have nothing without Daisy, Nick. She was my world. She was my dream!"

"Dreams die, Jay!" At that moment I could see it in his eyes that he finally stopped believing.

"What now?" He whispered. The once invincible Gatsby now seemed like a scared little boy.

"Find a hobby. Or some friends. Anything to get your mind off her."

"Dating other women?"

"Only if you want to." It killed me to think of Jay with someone who wasn't me, but unlike him, I knew better than to fall in love with a fantasy.

"You know old sport, I have a confession to make."

"Because you're drunk?"

"No, but it certainly helps. I always loved Daisy, but I've recently fallen for someone else as well."

"Who? Jordan?"

He flashed me his signature smile. "You, old sport."

I'd barely had anything to drink, but my head was spinning, my heart was racing, and I was sweating like a dog. "You love _me_?"

He stared down at the floor. "I know it's wrong and probably a little vile, but it's the truth."

"You loved me and Daisy at the same time?"

"Is love ever wrong?"

He had a point. "I can't believe I'm saying this out loud, but I love you too, Jay."

He beamed. I could see the hearts in his eyes, and my dream was realized.

"Nick..." He almost never called me by my first name. Gatsby cupped my face and, with the last of his liquid courage, kissed me.

I had no time to react, no time to consider what I'd say to Jordan, no time to think about what the others might say. I simply kissed him until everything else went away.

Gatsby took my hand and lead me up the winding staircase while trying to keep the kiss intact. His bedroom was as elaborate as the rest of the house but came off as intimate. I still had a million questions running through my head, but they were irrelevant in the heat of the moment.

Gatsby laid me down gently on his island of a bed, but that was the only gentle thing about him. His kisses became rough and he was more than eager to get both his and my clothes off.

He kisses my neck and sucked in such a way that he would leave a hickey in the morning.

"Jay, I-"

"Don't speak," he whispered. Gatsby unbuttoned both of our shirts and kissed me once more. I, Nick Carraway, was making out with Jay Gatsby shirtless on his bed. There's something I never thought I'd get to say.

I myself was already hard and I could feel him getting there. Desperate for him, I unbuttoned his pants and grabbed his ass, shoving my tongue in his mouth.

Whimpering and needy, he stripped me down. He removed his briefs and the enormity of the situation hit me all at once. We were both lying on his bed, naked and wanting each other.

I found the nerve to speak up. "We don't have to do anything, you know."

"I know old sport, but I've wanted you since I met you at that first party you came to."

"Really?"

"I wouldn't lie to you, old sport."

"What do you love about me so much?"

"You're so different from all the Eggers in Long Island, different from everyone immersed in this world. You're a good man, old sport, which is more than I can say about anyone on either side of the bay."

I was touched but not surprised. "I don't want to pressure you, but is there anything you'd like to do, ah, sexually?"

"Honestly, as much as possible."

"Okay then." I started out by simply kissing him. He attempted to deepen the kiss, but I felt like teasing him a little. I kissed his jaw, his neck, and his throat, going down the length of his torso with each kiss. I looked to Jay for consent.

"Is it okay if I-"

"Please do, old sport."

I took him in my mouth, realizing all of a sudden how inexperienced I was. I sucked and licked him to my heart's content. His length bobbed back and forth in my mouth. I made good use of my tongue; judging by the sounds he made, I was doing alright. He came in my mouth, screaming my name.

"Nick, Nick..." Gatsby kissed me with a new hunger, our tongues swirling together.

"Let me return the favor," he said.

Still a little stunned, I spoke. "Don't mind if you do."

He took a different approach than me. He reached for me and pumped vigorously. My breathing hitched and I came all over his chest, still seeing stars. While Jay was still flustered, I licked everything off his chest.

"You must have done this before," he said, taking me in his arms.

"No, actually. I'm as new to this as you."

"Really." His shock was apparent. "I guess you've got a knack for-"

"Sucking dicks?"

"I suppose that's one way to phrase it."

I rolled my eyes and kissed him again. "Jay, do you want to..."

"Want to what?"

"Do you want to make love?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Working out the logistics was a little awkward, but it ended up with Jay on top and me under him.

Having him inside me was a bliss I'd never known before and would probably never know again. He slammed into me, getting rougher with every passing second. His nails dug into my thighs. He could touch me but I couldn't touch him.

Who knows how long we spent loving each other, but Gatsby eventually came, as did I. By the end of it all, we were sweaty and exhausted.

"Wow." It was all I could say. Gatsby took me in his arms again and we spoke, illuminated by the pale moonlight.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too. So what are we gonna do about this, about us? Should we tell the others?"

"Not now. Maybe we should wait a while."

"Do you ever plan on coming out?"

"Only if this thing between us goes somewhere."

"Do you want it to go somewhere?"

"I'd like nothing more in the world."

And on the last night of summer, the last night of Jay Gatsby's life, we held each other and fell into the purest sleep.

I woke up at seven o'clock the next morning. The sunlight poured through the room, making it look golden. Fall had nearly arrived. I had initially planned on moving to New York full time this weekend, but after last night I didn't have the heart to leave Gatsby.

I kissed his forehead to wake him up. "Good morning, my love."

His eyelids fluttered as he woke. "Morning, old sport."

"Do you remember last night? You were drinker than I've ever seen you."

"I was sober enough to remember the important parts. We confessed our love for each other and then we made love."

"Right and right." I found myself smiling at him the way he used to beam at Daisy.

"You are incredible, old sport."

"Thanks. Listen, I've got to get going for work, so-"

"At least have breakfast with me."

I sighed. "You're lucky I love you."

"Very lucky indeed. Love you, too."

The servants made breakfast while we cuddled and kissed and held hands. We drew the meal out so long that when I checked my watch, it was nearly nine.

"I'm going to be late for work!"

"I'll walk you out." Gatsby led me to the gates, holding my hand the entire time. "I'll call you at work."

I kissed him once more. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

I started across the lawn and stopped. "You know how you were always trying to be like those old money folks?" I yelled up at Gatsby. "You're worth the damn bunch of them!"

He waved back at me and blew a kiss. If I had known that was the last time I'd ever see Jay Gatsby alive, I never would've left.

It was hard to concentrate at work; I waited all morning for him to call. When I came back from lunch, my boss was standing next to my desk with a grave look on his face.

"What is it, sir?" I hoped I wasn't in trouble for barely making any calls and coming in late that morning, even though I deserved it.

"There's a call waiting for you in my office, Mr. Carraway. It's from the house of Gatsby."

My heart skipped a beat Why didn't he call me on my desk phone? Did my boss know about our relationship? Had something bad happened?

I rushed to his office and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Mr. Carraway, I am Mr. Gatsby's butler. I am sorry to inform you that at 10:30 this morning, Mr. Gatsby was shot in his pool and drowned."

I dropped the phone. "I told him to drain the damn pool." I left work and frantically drove back to West Egg. When I got there, the servants let me in and I raced towards the pool. Floating in there was the body of Gatsby.

I fell to my knees. "No! No!" My tears were hot and salty. This wasn't fair. He was so young. We had only been together for a little over twelve hours. Our whole lives had been ahead of us! And George Wilson, it turned out, had ripped that away.

Reporters appeared soon enough and I couldn't fend them off. Nothing pissed me off like knowing that everything they'd write in the papers wasn't true. I started to arrange a funeral. I asked all around, but it seemed like nobody could come. Gatsby's father Mr. Gatz, a priest, and I were the only ones who attended the funeral. For years, hundreds of people would party at his house all weekend, every weekend, but not one of them could come to his dank funeral.

I slept on the staircase that night near the casket. It was hard to believe that just twenty four hours ago I was in Gatsby's bedroom making love to him.

I woke up the next morning feeling like shit. I decided to go home, but before I did, I stood in front of the casket. It would be the last time I ever saw Jay Gatsby's face. A tear rolled down my cheek as I kissed him.

"Goodbye, my love," I whispered. "And goodbye to the romance that almost was."


End file.
